


Weathered Bones

by sixstrings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixstrings/pseuds/sixstrings
Summary: Angels do not age. Their vessels remain as they are from the moment they are possessed.Humans, on the other hand, are not so lucky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Written on a whim in the dead of night, more a stream of thought that anything planned out, so please forgive incoherencies and typos!

Silver threaded through tawny hair, still kept cut short, whether by habit or preference Castiel couldn't be sure.

He likes to let his fingers drag over it, watch the light catch against the lighter strands, sink into the dark, playing beautiful patterns across Dean's hair. Dean hates it, that much he knows. He catches Dean now and then, staring down the mirror, fingers picking through strands, dismay etched into his face as the grey begins to out-number the colour. He catches Dean pulling at the creases at the corners of his eyes, marks carved through years of laughter and smiling, and strain and tiredness too, lamenting the loss of his youth.

Castiel doesn't age. He looks the same as when they first met in that warehouse, when Dean was just barely thirty, full of anger and hurt and a need to make right a wrong forced on him. He's stuck at thirty-something, Jimmy Novak's face -- his face -- never showing the wear of the hunting life he'd opted to follow the Winchesters down into. And Castiel's not sure if he likes that.

Dean teases, calls himself a cradle-robber, but there's a tenseness in the way he speaks, and soon Castiel notices-- Dean starts to avoid him.

He doesn't let Castiel hold his hand when they're out, blaming arthritic joints, claiming, "Can't hold a gun if my hand's stiff, Cas."

He doesn't let him lean in on quiet evenings spent on the couch, groaning out, "Crushing my bum shoulder, Cas."

He doesn't let him creep closer under the cover of night, twisting away with a soft, "Not tonight, Cas."

The insecurity runs deep, and festers in everything they did, everything they do, and Castiel's at his wits end when he turns to Sam. Sam, who had too weathered the passage of time, still Dean's little brother, but an old man in his own right too, long hair streaked through with silver like an aging lion, patient and understanding when Castiel vents his frustrations, his concerns.

The answer is absurdly simple.

"It's hard for him. You haven't changed at all." Sam's hands are big and crooked in the fingers when they rest over Castiel's own. "He has. We have. Time's a bitch, and humans-- we run out of it. The fact that we made it this far is pretty amazing." The wrinkles are deep around Sam's eyes too. "Be patient. Be kind. Be You, Cas. He'll come around."

And true to Sam's word, he does.

It take patience, and reassurance, kissing Dean's greyed temples, the deepening wrinkles on his face. Letting him hide in the dark when his confidence is low, but still lavishing affection on as much as he possibly can. Dean's body wears with age, but _Dean_ doesn't. He's still that fierce hunter inside, the one with a softer streak than he'd like to admit, and Castiel affirms and assures him no matter what, it's _who_ he was that he fell for, not what he looks like. Because when Castiel looks at Dean, he sees beyond the felsh and muscle, and into the searing white light of his soul, a little tattered, a little bruised, but vibrant as the day he was born into the world.

Eventually, Dean's body gives way. It was inevitable-- humans are fragile and their time limited -- but it's hard all the same. He knows where Dean is, safe and secure in Heaven's arms but he lingers on Earth, watching over Sam, keeping him company in the end of life, too. He owes him that much, and when Sam finally stills barely a year after Dean, he follows the shimmer of his soul up and up.

And finds _him_  there, waiting on them both.

Immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was enjoyable! 
> 
> I'm trying to get into the swing of writing fic, I usually prefer roleplays because I like getting replies but when it's slow, ya gotta figure out your own entertainment.


End file.
